


A Proper Snit and Fucking

by alafaye



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-02
Updated: 2014-09-02
Packaged: 2018-02-15 19:59:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,872
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2241564
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alafaye/pseuds/alafaye
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tony's angry that someone didn't include that technological monstrosity in the intel report; Steve just wants to redirect that anger.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Proper Snit and Fucking

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the 2014 Bring Back the Porn challenge, hosted at IJ. Head over to the comm and check out the porn.

When the battle is done, Tony's furious enough with whoever had gathered the intel that he landed in his shop and had Jarvis playing the battle back for him before he took the suit off.

"Yeah, zoom in there," he said, narrowing his eyes. "There. What the hell was that? Run it against all searches. See if you can find anything close to it." From what Tony had found out, that thing had been in play before the Avengers had received the call. It should've been included in the report. If someone can take the time to do a rough head count of potential civilians in the field, they could include a mention of...whatever it was.

It looked like a grenade launcher, but it had instead shot off concentrated fuel that exploded on impact. No shell, no visible spark. Just an uncontained ball of fire. Risky and whoever designed it clearly hadn't cared about the safety of the person shooting it. Just looking at it, Tony could see at least three ways it could backfire and detonate, setting off a fire on the side who had it. And whoever these idiots were, hadn't thought about that since they had kept it on their side, in the middle of the base they had set up on the street.

"Nothing, sir," Jarvis reported. "However, when I searched for the term 'fire launcher', a server in the northwest went dark."

Interesting. "Send it to Captain Roger's computer. And Coulson's. Red flag it from me with the memo that maybe we should look into that."

"Sending," Jarvis said.

"And heard," Steve finished, startling Tony.

Tony looked over his shoulder. "Hey. Didn't hear you come down. Jarvis?"

"Sir?"

"What have I said about no one seeing the Extremis tech?"

"As you never locked him out of those files and that he has viewed them--I did include that fact in a report a few months ago when it happened--I thought nothing of it."

Steve was eying the tech that was normally covered by the suit, but shrugged it off. "I don't understand it so it's not as though as anyone who tortures me will get anything about it."

Tony shook his head and picked up the jeans that Dum-E had put on a rack for him. Pulling them on, he pointed out, "I don't think this group was the one who invented the launcher."

"No?" Steve looked at the shot of the launcher. "I agree. They had two--remember when I went offline?"

Tony nodded, but was unwilling to think too much of it. It had been the worst five minutes of the battle. Jarvis hadn't been able to pinpoint what exactly had gone wrong, but had eventually gotten Steve back online.

"One of them went off," Steve explained. "Knocked out my connection from the blast."

"Dr. Banner is currently running a scan on a small piece of the fuel that had been scavenged," Jarvis told them, anticipating Tony's next question.

Tony hummed. Steve shifted, leaning forward to study the machine. "It was a backfire. I saw them having trouble with it and I tried using that as a distraction to get in, but if they knew this thing could go off as badly as it did, they wouldn't have had as many men going to help out with it."

"Stupid and willing to trust shifty tech," Tony murmured to himself. "Or, just as likely, unable to recognize a shoddy piece of equipment."

"Or too willing to get a job done," Steve pointed out.

Too many variables. They could have also just as easily hoped for some kind of distraction to get what they were after as anything else. Because they had, or so the team believed. A safe box from a bank blocks away had been stolen by a group who wore the same costume as the group the Avengers had taken on.

Steve shifted again, closer to Tony, and nuzzled his neck. Tony raised an eyebrow, but did nothing else. "Hi, there. Kind of grungy from battle here."

"Don't care," Steve admitted. He breathed deep and wrapped an arm around Tony's waist. "Much as I love a good intel session, especially if it means good intel and not missing important things--" Tony snorted and Steve grinned, "I came down here for something else."

Tony smirked. "Oh, yeah?"

Steve hit a button that closed down the hologram and turned Tony so they were face to face. "Caught your show with Hill."

"Well, as she was in charge of the team who sent us the intel--" Tony began.

A finger landed on Tony's lips. "I know. I understand. Not what I meant. Just...been a while since I've seen you in a proper snit."

"Snit?" Tony squeaked.

Steve smirked. "Snit. Angry, but not enough to begin firing at things. Upset, but more in a ranting sort of way. A long standing argument."

"Well, it isn't as though SHIELD is any better with Coulson at the helm," Tony growled out. "It's still full of people who are spies, who like to play dangerous games."

Steve sighed and turned Tony so he was leaning against the desk. Pressing close, Tony finally clued in to what Steve was driving toward. He smiled, jumped on the desk, and spread his legs, letting Steve in. Eyes lighting up, Steve began opening Tony's pants. "Too long since I got to see you in a proper strop and I have to say, Tony, that I might not press SHIELD to be better at getting intel right."

Tony raised his eyebrows and leaned back on his hands. He lifted his hips so Steve could pull his pants off. "And what happens if one of us dies because of bad intel?" 

Steve sighed and shook his head. "Then I'll have to make up excuses to get you riled up."

"So I'm angry at you? Please, as if that would help. Who says I would have sex with you then?" Oh, but Tony could see it. Clear as day. Steve needling him until Tony was so mad he could spit and Steve turning the tables so Tony was instead begging to be fucked.

Steve was all together to good at that, getting Tony to beg. 

"You think you're not that easy, but you really, really are," Steve argued. "I'd have you so mad you'd be in my face, in a tight spot. In the kitchen, between the island and the sink. Or maybe in a hallway. You'd be right there, inches between us, and all I would have to do it touch you right here."

Tony sucked in a harsh whining breath as Steve touched him just under where the arc reactor had been. It had been a dead area when the socket had been installed, but after Extremis, the endings had fired up into something almost as sensitive as his dick. Touched at the right moment, it would have Tony cascading into several orgasms. Steve, with all the determination and thoughtfulness that he had for planning battles, had quickly found out how to do that.

"Yeah, that," Steve half whispered, half groaned. Tony panted in response and arched his back, pushing his hips forward. Steve chuckled and nipped the healed skin where the socket had been. It pinched and Tony twitched, then yelled when Steve licked further down again.

Tony was leaking as bad as if someone was milking him, but fuck if he cared. Steve took out a small trial size container of lube and began fingering Tony open, biting and sucking Tony's chest, playing. Tony tried to watch Steve, tried to pay attention to the words that Steve was saying (something about how he would take advantage of the small space they were having their argument in, the close space being easiest to shove Tony up against something solid for fucking), but it was too difficult. Steve knew where he was sensitive, how to keep Tony from thinking.

It was almost too much and he was begging for Steve to stop or move on or just fuck him already. Just...it was overwhelming and delicious and if Tony couldn't get off soon, he'd be done for the day and there was...wasn't there something he had to do? Something to do with the suit?

"I've got you," Steve whispered, opening his pants.

Tony blinked the sweat out of his eyes and finally registered that he was grimy from the battle and wearing only jeans, jeans that were around one of his ankles. He was on his back on a work table while his lover, Steve Rogers, fingered him open, readying him for a fuck. Steve Rogers who wasn't Steve Rogers right now; no, he was Captain America in his costume, wanting a fuck and playing Tony so he would open right up for him.

 _Fuck, fuck, fuck_ Tony's mind moaned.

"Yes, yes, yes," Steve answered.

Tony blushed; he hadn't thought he'd said that aloud.

He groaned and shifted, wanting simultaneously to close his legs and shut this whole thing down and also to open his legs wider and beg for more. This was just...he'd been asking Steve to fuck him wearing the suit, always. How many times had Tony imagined this as a kid? The reality was different, of course it was, they were adults and fantasies were just fantasies, but that didn't change the fact that Tony, just once, wanted a good hard fuck from Captain Fucking America. He didn't know what changed Steve's mind and he wasn't about to ask, but holy shit.

And then Tony's legs are being lifted over Steve's shoulders and Steve isn't being gentle or slow, pushing in with no warning or stopping or breath. In and in, stealing Tony's words and breath and then his chest was being touched and the fucking started and Tony just hung on tight. Knees being scrapped by the fabric of Steve's shoulders and his skin pulling on the metal table and Steve sweating onto him, pounding into him, pulling Tony's hips to help him with his pace. Steve watching him with dark, dark eyes, desire lit by Tony's snit apparently and wanting Tony enough to finally fuck him wearing his suit and then fucking Tony exactly how he likes, with care for Tony's pleasure but also using Tony as a fucking hole.

Fucking hole. Ha.

And then Steve folded Tony in half--ow, ow, ow along Tony's nerves, clashing with the pleasure and stealing Tony's fourth wind--and bit that spot and Tony's _gone gone gone_.

When he came to, he's been cleaned and his jeans zipped up and hey, Steve even put his shirt on. And they're on the sofa he keeps in the shop. Tony looked up, tilting his head back, and he's staring up at Steve. Huh. Must be in Steve's lap then. Steve who had showered and changed and gotten his sketch book.

"Hi," Tony said. Or tries to. His throat is sore.

Steve smirked and petted Tony's hair. "Hi. Okay?"

Tony took stock of his body--sore and used but wonderfully so--and smirked himself. "Very."

"Good," Steve said. "Good."

"When are we doing that again?"

Steve's pencil dropping is the best part.


End file.
